Page 69 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire

Ewan nodded. “O’ course.”

“But… this is what you wanted… tae be free o’ your brother’s shadow, to prove yourself his equal…”

“And nae any o’ it would matter, if ye werenae by me side. The choice was an easy one.” Ewan shrugged. “I couldnae have said aught else.”

“But… why?” She felt as if she ought to know the answer, but even so, she couldn’t think. She could scarcely breathe. “Why would you…?”

“Did ye think I asked ye tae marry me on a whim?” Ewan set his glass down and stepped close to place his hand on her cheek tenderly. “I love ye, Grace Lancaster. I love ye more than I’ve loved any other in me entire life. I was ready tae give up the wish o’ me lifetime, because there’s nae lifetime I would be willing tae live if it didnae have ye in it.”

Tears pricked her eyes, even as Grace smiled. “Oh… I’d hoped…”

She reached up and wrapped her arms around Ewan’s neck. “I love you too. I had hoped… when you asked me to wed you, I hoped…”

Then she was moving, flinging herself against him even as he pulled her close, her lips seeking his in a deep and desperate kiss. “I love you… I love you…”

She couldn’t seem to stop murmuring the words, couldn’t seem to stop kissing him in between each declaration. Her whole body felt light and luminous with joy, more joy than she’d ever experienced before.

Ewan swept her into his arms and carried her back into the bedroom. The two of them fell into the bed, both gasping and giddy with warmth and happiness. Ewan was laughing in between kisses as he cradled her close.

Slowly, the giddiness faded, and a pleasant lassitude filled her body in its place. Grace leaned into Ewan’s chest. “I love you.”

“I love ye too.” Ewan cradled her close for a moment, then shifted. A second later, he grunted, and Grace heard a thud as he kicked off his shoes. Then Ewan wrestled off his belt and tossed it aside as well. His sword and blades clattered to the floor as well.

Grace kicked off the slippers she’d been wearing and buried her feet in the coverlet at the foot of the bed. There was a part of her that wanted very much to show Ewan how much she loved him, but weariness was catching up with her, and she couldn’t bring herself to move from Ewan’s embrace. From the way he curled around her, Ewan seemed to be of the same mind.

She was warm, she was safe, she was loved. And Ewan was going to be the laird. Everything was well.

Smiling contently, Grace Lancaster fell asleep in the arms of her beloved, happy in the knowledge that all was right in her world, perhaps for the first time since her parents had died.

EPILOGUE

One month later…

The sun was shining brightly, the heather and the flowers of the garden in full bloom. Even the gray-washed stones of MacTavish Keep shone brighter in the late spring-early summer sunlight. Ewan watched the sunlight from the window of his study.

“Tis a lovely day.” Ewan turned as Alistair joined him at the window. “Are ye ready?”

Ewan smiled wryly. He was wearing a new shirt, white linen decorated with bands of MacTavish color. His kilt and sash were MacTavish colors as well, and around his neck, he wore the torc of his newly appointed lairdship.

As of a fortnight ago, he was officially Laird MacTavish. Alistair’s equal now, until the day he perished. He was still getting used to the idea that he was a laird, and no longer a MacDuff.

And soon, within the next two candle-marks, he would also be a married man. “I dinnae ken if I’m ready, but I welcome the change.”

Alistair chuckled. “Aye. I felt the same way the day I married Niamh.”

Ewan sipped at the drink Alistair handed him. “How is Niamh?”

“Ready tae deliver the babe any day, according tae her. She’s nae in any great temper, but between yer betrothed, Catriona, and Sorcha MacBeth, she’s more comfortable than she might be.” Alistair paused. “Yer lady seems tae be quite friendly with Sorcha MacBeth.”

“Aye.” Ewan agreed.

Grace’s friendship with the witch of MacDuff Clan had come as a surprise to Ewan, and yet, he couldn’t deny the benefits of it. Sorcha had begun teaching Grace herb lore, legends and various crafts of her trade, and under her teaching, Grace had blossomed. The friendship had also drawn Sorcha out of her isolation.

She would always be mysterious and otherworldly, and perhaps slightly frightening so far as Ewan was concerned, but he could also see the warmth that lay beneath the veneer of the power Sorcha MacBeth carried.

There was a knock on the door, and Devlin walked in. “M’lairds, the priest is here, and the musicians as well. We’re almost ready tae perform the ceremony.”

Ewan felt his mouth go dry. He sipped the drink in his hand, then drained the rest of it, grimacing at the burn of whisky in his throat. Alistair laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on braither. ‘Tis time.”